Chapter Seventy Five
The Slug Club.
The invitation was extended to him in both time's, amusingly. To Lord Foxham, the invitation came in a wax sealed envelope of deep Slytherin green. Magical calligraphy, the letters swirling and twisting into roses and petals, inviting him to join a little party of notable names and rising stars.
In the modern day, Slughorn took a different approach, catching him in the Hogwarts corridors.
"Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he cried, his walrus mustache puffing as he hustled over, his belly heaving. "Where've you been, you sly thing?"
"Uh." Harry glanced over at Hermione. He'd just come out of the broom cupboard, after pounding another load into Mione's tight bubble-butt. Since her backdoor had been opened, he'd been a little obsessed. She blushed, hair wild. Under her plaid skirt, her ruby plug was struggling to contain the gallon of cum he'd deposited deep inside her. "Just around."
"Well, what do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms? We're having a daring little shindig with the right sort, y'know. I've got McLaggen coming and the charming Cho Chang, and well," he leaned in conspiratorially. "I might even have Gwenog Jones coming. Do you know her?"
"No, Professor, but I'd be delighted to come."
"Oh, call me Horace, why don't you?" He patted his shoulder. "Thrilled you're coming, my boy. Why don't you bring that lovely fiancée of yours? Don't worry about the chinwag, I'm over the moon you're marrying a Slytherin, and isn't she a beauty?" He guffawed. "Goodness, if I were fifty years younger!"
"Or just five." Harry winked.
"Stop it, you." Slughorn scolded, obviously pleased. "You've always been my favourite, you know. See you later!"
He bustled away.
Hermione bristled at his side. "He didn't even look at me — how rude!"
"Don't take it personally." He patted her bottom. "It's just pureblood nonsense."
"You could have asked if I could come, you know." She muttered.
"Oh, sorry. I just figured you, uh, wouldn't be able to walk." He said, trying to hide his smirk.
She looked at him flatly. "I can see how smug you are, you know." She said, gripping onto his arm.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"That's not the point!" She swatted him. "I'm not just y-your buttslut," she whispered harshly, "to use and discard!"
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll bring you back some food from the party?"
She sniffed. "Don't get too drunk for cuddling time." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "And I'm not cleaning Greengrass off you, so don't even think about it."
"You got it, beautiful." He grinned. How had she known he'd planned to do exactly that?
In the past, Harry's options as a date were much more limited. Bellatrix, despite her eagerness to show herself off as his date and pet, couldn't be seen with him again in public, not if she wanted to join Lord Voldemort's ranks. Amelia told him she had an invitation already, Slughorn having recognized her as an up-and-comer at the Symposium.
So he went solo. Bella touched up his hair, smoothed down his lapel, adjusted his tie.
"How do I look?"
She gazed at him with feral lust. "Like my lord who will conquer this world."
A long conversation hadn't made Bella understand his aims — she'd heard the words harem and power and spent the rest of the talk rubbing her thighs together.
She kissed him, bit his lip to draw blood, giggled when he pushed her away. "I will be waiting for you," she said, pulling a corset out of the cupboard and laying it on the bed.
Harry thought of Hermione, in another time, and her warning about not coming home with Daphne's dew on his cock. "What will you do if I come home with another girl's stain on my cock?"
Bellatrix thought for a long moment. "If it's lipstick, I'll bite your cock off. If it's a virgin's blood, I'll be okay — I want to know if it tastes different."
"Merlin, Bella."
She gave him a mischievous smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing. "No, I doubt he's a virgin."
Harry shook his head. Letter in hand, the Portkey took him to the Entrance Gates of Hogwarts, wrought iron and two columns of stone winged boars. Thestral-pulled carriages waited for the waiting crowd, men and women in their finery — Slughorn had obviously invited far more than just promising students for this Slug Club.
He climbed into the first carriage and took in the other guests.
"Lord Foxham, is it?" A thin man wearing a brown woolly beanie, very at odds with his dress robes. He had a Yorkshire twang. "Ambrosius Flume, at your service, I don't know if you—"
"The man behind Honeydukes, how could I not know?" Harry shook his hand.
He grinned. "Didn't think you'd know me — you weren't a Hogwarts boy, were ya?"
"I wasn't but I've got a sweet tooth, like Horace." Harry caught sight of the package at Flume's side. "I see you've brought his favourite."
Flume scoffed. "You do know him well — I'm sure he only invited me to get a fresh batch."
"I'm sure that's not the case. And this lovely woman must be your wife."
Flume's wife looked like she taste-tested all his sweets, but he took her hand and kissed it all the same.
"Lord Foxham." She dipped her head, blushing. "You're very young and good-looking — I'm sure all the ladies must be ready to eat you up."
"Oh, I'm just here to see the castle." Harry said as the carriage rocked up the bumpy path to Hogwarts. The castle was as beautiful as ever, the sky tinged with peach hues as it fell behind the towers, another day dying. It held his real objective — the Room of Requirement which held the diadem. In the future, the diadem was missing. Someone had taken it because he'd been a fool to open the room up to the DA, to all the wrong type. Who had it been? He hadn't a clue.
But it was still here, in the past. All he needed to do was slip away from the party, when the time was right.
At the castle, the enormous oak front doors opened. The crowd trailed in, watched by a sour-faced Argus Filch. Harry flinched at the man's gaze. He wasn't a good man but he'd died for no good reason. It felt like it had happened on Harry's watch, somehow.
You're not Hogwarts' protector. He reminded himself.
He followed the crowd to Slughorn's office. Inside, it was enormous, extended by magic, but the stone room felt more like a magical tent because of the emerald, crimson and gold hanging fabric on the ceiling and wall. The ornate golden lamp that hung from the middle rotated slowly, with cut-open shapes so the light showed figures on the fabric hangings as it twirled, wizards and witches, fairies and broomsticks.
It was the only light, so the room was dark and dusky, even more so with the cloud of pipe smoke in one corner from elderly warlocks. For a moment, Harry thought there were silver tables magicked to move from group to group, until he spotted a straining house-elf holding them up, laden with food platters.
"Lord Foxham! Harry!" Slughorn boomed as he saw him. The man wore a velvet purple smoking jacket and had wisely decided not to try and button it up. "Thank you for that, ah, little taste of France that you gifted me."
Harry grinned as the man reddened.
"Did he give you a cheese board, Horace?" Ambrosius asked. "You never liked that brie I gave you."
"Something like that." Horace coughed. "Good to see you too, old boy."
"Harry," Slughorn gripped his arm tightly. "Don't be afraid to mingle. Plenty of fine fillies but maybe stay away from Valentina Zabini. She's a beauty but well, you know the stories."
"Got it." Harry clocked the beautiful Italian witch. She wore a red satin gown with a slit so high up her hip that it seemed almost impossible that she was wearing panties. In the modern day, it would have been daring. Here in the eighties, it was positively scandalous.
"But there is someone I do want you to meet." Slughorn murmured, arching onto his toes to look above the crowd. "Extraordinary witch, one of the few who dare to experiment with spell creation, a real free-thinker, you know?"
Harry's eyebrows rose. Very few were brave enough to create their own spells — it was a risky and often explosive affair. "I'd like to meet her."
"And, there she is!" Horace tugged him through the crowd until Harry was face to face with large protuberant silvery eyes. A witch with waist-length dirty blonde hair, her dress a psychedelic pink-and-yellow paisley-print of pattern and colour, cut high on her thighs. Bright white knee-high go-go boots completed the affair. She was straight out of the sixties, though she looked like she'd only been born in the sixties, completely at odds with what everyone else was wearing.
"This," Slughorn said proudly, "is Pandora Lovegood. You'll never find a more original mind. Pandora, meet Lord Edward Harry Foxham, but Harry to his friends."
Luna's mother.
"A pleasure." Harry said, still taking her in. She was svelte and slim and looked as if she'd never left the disco floor. "I love your style, Pandora, if I can call you that."
She shimmied her feet to an invisible tune, looking down at herself. "It's a bit two decades ago, isn't it?" She met his eyes and smiled with gloss-shining lips, her hair tousled around her face in messy waves. "But I suppose we're all a bit out of time, aren't we?"
Harry's heart stopped. Restarted. She looked at him with such a knowing gaze. "What do you mean?"
"The music." She said, twisting her hips left and right. "They're playing disco. I mean, when was the last time you heard The Magical Munkeys?"
"Oh, right." Harry laughed. "H-how's your daughter doing?"
"I think she's just made some friends."
Slughorn frowned. "But you don't have kids, do you, Pandy?"
"Oh, no, not yet." Pandora smiled. "Nice to meet you, Harry."
She danced into the crowd, a glow in her eyes.
Harry flinched. He'd forgotten Luna was in the year below him. She wasn't even born yet — not even conceived.
How-why-what just happened?
Slughorn coughed. "Real free thinker — all geniuses are a bit mad, don't worry."
Harry shook his head. Either he was mad or she was mad, but either way, she was probably best left alone, even if she was a stone-cold fox.
"Harry!" Two voices called his name. He was hit by a brown missile, straight in his stomach.
"Oof!" He wrapped his arms around a petite brunette and realized it was Alice. She was dressed all seventies boho, and he reminded himself that it was the beginning of the decade. Seventies fashion was still in — and Alice was wearing it, a short but flowing cotton tie-dye rainbow stripes dress, free and open at the top to show a daring amount of pale cleavage, but cinched at the waist with a braided leather belt. A matching headband accessorised her shoulder-length tussles.
Behind her, Lily Potter looked vaguely disapproving at the length of the hug.
Slughorn boomed out a laugh. "So good to see you, Lily, Alice. We missed you at the last Slug Club!"
"And you, Professor." Lily gave him a small smile.
"No James today?"
"He couldn't make it, unfortunately."
"Ah, no matter." Slughorn gave her a wink. "You're my favourite, anyway."
Harry resisted the urge to curse him — the man's lecherousness was less easy to stomach when it was directed at his mother.
"I bet you say that to all the girls, Professor." Lily sighed at him fondly.
"See, Harry," Slughorn elbowed him. "That's why I always said she's the smartest witch of her generation — she'll do great things, one day, mark my words!"
Lily blushed. "Thank you, Professor. You always have supported me."
"Now, you young ones mingle." Slughorn instructed. "I've just spotted Barnabas Cuffe and I absolutely must say hello — rising star at the Prophet, you know, and good press is everything!" The man bustled away.
Alice still hadn't left Harry's arms.
"I'm so glad you came!" She squealed. "Frank and James are on babysitting duty, giving us one last night of freedom."
"What do you mean, last?"
"Nothing." Lily said hastily, wearing more conventional robes. "Just before we have to sit at home for a bit, taking care of our kids."
"How's little Harry doing?"
"Cute. He's a heartbreaker, for sure." Lily huffed. "Those eyes."
"My Neville's a cutie too. Pudgy like his father, but he has my eyes." Alice bragged.
"I bet they're adorable."
"Pssh." Alice grinned. "I don't want to talk about the kids tonight. All I ever do is talk about the babies. Tonight, I want to dance!"
"Alice." Lily warned.
"Come on, Lils." Alice gave her a doe-eyed look. "It's our last night out, let's enjoy it."
Lily sighed. "Alright, I'll get us a drink. Don't go anywhere."
Alice waited until she was gone. "But this is my song! Harry, let's go!"
"Shouldn't we wait for, oh—" Harry let himself be tugged through the crowd. At the end of the huge expanded room, a dancefloor was lit up in rainbow colors, square panels glowing below the dancing crowd. He saw a tall vampire dancing in a gaggle of curious Hogwarts girls — Flume hurriedly handed him a handful of Blood Pops as he started looking hungry.
Alice took him to the very back of the dancefloor, where it was darkest. She shouted over the beat. "Isn't it so brilliant and just so totally different?"
"What?"
"The music! They use synthesizers and these totally wild machines!" Alice grinned. "Magic makes it break down half the time. They call it magi-techno-pop!"
"Oh, right." Harry had heard it all before — the genre had been replaced on the Wizarding Wireless by the rock of the Weird Sisters, but it was good to dance to, the beat easy to find. The synths were coursing through the crowd, making the packed dance floor twist and turn, giddy smiles, sweaty faces.
Harry just tried to keep up — Alice danced like she'd been hit with three different spells, arms in the air, her hips shaking left and right, backed into him. She giggled when she tossed her hair into him, her head pressed against his neck and then her body slid down his teasingly…
Little slut.
When the music slowed, she ground her front on him instead, her breasts glistening with sweat. He held her close if only to try and hide her from view — the married woman, wife of a noble House, grinding on another man. Thankfully, it was dark enough to hide them, the crowd too dense to see through, the dancers themselves too busy with their own moves.
When he placed his hands firmly on her ass, thicker from her pregnancy, she purred. "Thats's what I like about you, Harry." Alice murmured. "You don't ask."
"Oh?"
"Frank, he's all can I kiss you? Can I turn the lights off? Can I sleep in the same bed tonight?" She sighed. "Real men don't ask. They take."
He kneaded her asscheeks roughly, his own lust building. He was here for the diadem but Alice was a needy slut. Maybe just a little fun before he slipped away…
He slid his hands up her thighs, let her dress hide his hands, positioning her so his back hid his movements. He let his fingers explore — the soft cream of her thighs, the swell of the mountain as he climbed, the tiny rocks as her flesh goosed up and then the unexpected mountain stream.
"You're wet." He teased as he caressed her wet cotton panties. "I've barely touched you, you dirty girl."
"Harry." She murmured, her arms around his neck as they swayed gently to the music. "I need you to give me what he can't."
"Right here?" He gasped in mock shock. But he pulled her panties aside, slid his fingers through the surprisingly hairy thatch of hair above her pussy, and found her clit. Gentle circling on her clit at first, but this wasn't time for foreplay. He buried one finger into her. Wet and hot.
Alice buried her face in his neck as they danced, trembling to the tune of his finger.
"Your husband wouldn't do this, you mean?" Harry whispered into her ear, making her shiver with his breath. "He wouldn't finger you in public like the little slut you are?"
She moaned in response, her face red. "I'm a bad wife. I shouldn't but I can't, I can't, I can't—"
He never found out what she couldn't do, as he added another finger into her. He held her back with one hand, squeezing her tight, and fingered her with the other, her knee cocked up for him. She was soaking wet. Had she ever been given any pleasure by a man?
"Do you hear that?" Harry tilted his head.
"What?" She bit her lip.
"The sound of your dirty wet pussy." He nibbled on her ear lobe, curled his fingers, pumped them. The music faded as the song ended, and for a second they really could hear it — the wet squish-squish-squish, the sopping squelching sound, her heavy breathing. Everything was in focus, like the curtain was revealed. Alice looked around frantically, but nobody was looking. Nobody could hear. Nobody could smell the musk of her arousal, or see the juices that ran down her legs.
The next song began and she was overcome. Harry's two fingers probed deep, thumb on her clit, and Alice began noisily moaning, her eyes shut, grinding her pussy onto his hand. The song's beat built up, the crowd jumping up and down, but Alice's knees grew weak until he was practically holding her up his wrist and fingers, furiously fingering her.
"Cum for me." Harry ordered.
Alice obeyed, her body going ramrod straight, her thighs clamping around his hand. "Harry!" She moaned, collapsing onto his shoulder. Her legs quivered as she squirted over his fingers, her grool gushing over his hand. He held her like that for a long moment as her heels skittered aimlessly on the lit-up tiles, her strength gone, a ventriloquist's doll that could only do moans and whimpers. When she recovered, she withdrew with a red face.
"I can't believe I just did that." She said with horror, grimacing as his fingers popped out of her audibly.
"Women have needs too, not just men."
Alice glanced between them, eyes widening at the sight of his cock bulging through his robes. "I did that to you?" She said in wonder.
"Nobody else around here. Looks like you enjoyed it too." Harry showed her his glistening fingers, creamy strings between each finger.
Alice flushed red. "I'm not the type of girl who doesn't return the favour, you know? Merlin, I've never had a favour to return."
"Want to go find a broom cupboard?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows.
"Alice! Are you in there?" Lily's booming voice came over the music, standing on the edge of the crowded dancefloor.
The brunette winced. "Next time? For some reason, her and James have got this idea that I'm desperate to cheat on Frank with you."
"Where would they get such a wild idea? Another time, maybe."
Alice looked over each shoulder and then, taking a big breath for courage, held his wrist as she sucked his creamy fingers clean, throating his long fingers. She lapped them theatrically, eyes on his. When she pulled them out, she gave him a nervous smile. "A preview?"
"I can't wait, beautiful."
"Alice!" Lily huffed as she stalked towards them, carrying two cocktails. "Where did you two go? And what were you doing?"
Alice blew out a long exasperated breath as she tugged her dress down — it had ridden up quite high. "We were just dancing, Lily, Merlin! You're acting like Snape when you got with James!"
"That's completely different—"
"How is it? Because it was you and not me?" Alice took the drink from Lily and stomped away, the two women arguing all the while.
Harry watched them go, idly wiping his hands on his robes. He'd had his fun — now it was time to get to work.
Out of the party, ducking down to avoid Slughorn's gaze. Outside Slughorn's office, the castle was cold and eerie. But whatever year it was, Hogwarts was home. He owned these walls and knew every inch of it.
Up to the seventh floor. On the rising stairwell, a voice pierced his confidence.
"Ah, Lord Foxham."
Harry winced. Someone else owned these walls too. "Headmaster, it's good to see you again."
Dumbledore peered at him over the stone railings of the fifth floor. "Have you gotten lost? These halls can be tricky to navigate."
"I was, um, looking for the bathroom." He scratched the back of his neck. "I may have had a little too much of Horace's special brandy."
"A common mistake." Dumbledore nodded. "There is much to see in Hogwarts, from the Astronomy Tower to the library, but do be careful to stay away from the student's quarters. We wouldn't want there to be a misunderstanding."
Harry gave him an uncertain smile. Did the Headmaster think he was sneaking away for the schoolgirls? "Certainly not, thank you, Headmaster."
"I was impressed, Lord Foxham, by your quick thinking during the Symposium. To realize that Lord Ragnuk was an imposter, to find him in the paintings, to bring him out of it! No small task, I'm certain."
"…Thank you, Headmaster. Just a little good luck at the right time."
"I was so impressed, even, that I did a little research into you. Your name," The Headmaster's eyes lost their twinkle. "I did not find much. Nothing, even."
Harry stopped himself from wincing. The last thing he wanted to do was spark Dumbledore's attention. "I'm from a family of no importance."
Dumbledore hummed. "In war, one does not have the time to investigate one's allies, Lord Foxham, but I imagine I'd find the time for an enemy."
He caught the gist. "Then I'll make sure I remain a friend. Good evening, Headmaster."
"Good evening, Lord Foxham."
The grey beard was pulled back over the railing. Harry waited until he was sure the man had gone before he hurried up to the seventh floor. The Room of Requirement was a blank wall until he walked back and forth three times.
I need to find Ravenclaw's diadem.
The door appeared.
Inside, it was not as Tom remembered leaving it. The Dark Lord had been here to ask Dumbledore for a teaching job, many years prior, only Dumbledore had refused, as Tom had known he would. Tom had truly visited to hide the diadem inside the Room of Requirement. As Tom remembered it, as Harry had seen it, he'd only had time to throw the diadem onto a stone warlock and leave, no time to place powerful protection spells and too arrogant to believe the Room could be found by another.
But the diadem was not on the stone warlock's head. It glowed from inside a gleaming crystal, as big as Harry, each panel of the prism lighting a different shade of white and yellow. The diadem was sat upon a velvet pillow inside a crystal, somehow. It reminded him of a ship-in-a-bottle.
He stared at it through a ghostly figure. She turned up her head. The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw House.
Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter that took her mother's diadem. She looked at him, holding her hands in front of her, ever regal. "I always knew this day would come."
"I mean no harm." Harry said slowly, his hands raised.
"How can you harm me?" She sniffed. "I am long since departed. I know what you have come for, young man."
"My name is—"
"Your name," she said sharply, "matters not. What matters are your intentions."
"To destroy the diadem. Your mother's diadem. It is tainted with the darkest of magics." Harry said.
She did not seem surprised. "All men believe they act with heroic intentions. I have found, as my mother did before me, that only those with intellect can be trusted. Courage or cunning, it all falls away in the face of wit and wisdom. Try as you wish, stranger."
The ghost faded away before Harry could protest, leaving only the crystal.
He stepped forward cautiously. Had she taken the diadem and wrapped it up in a puzzle?
As he pressed his hand against the crystal, it resonated with a strange glow and hardened. Before him, the crystal merged into a dark mahogany wood. The crystal did not change shape, even as it lost its light. When it was fully wooden, Harry found a sphinx etched on its front, like a rune. The sphinx spoke to him, like a hieroglyphic given a voice.
"Seeker of the diadem, prove your wit and receive Lady Ravenclaw's gift."
Harry resisted the urge to groan. He had no Hermione to help him here. "Is it just a riddle, by any chance?"
The sphinx stomped its spear down. "There shall be five measures taken of your wisdom. Five puzzles to unravel, five fingers of the brain's hand."
"Great." He muttered. "I don't suppose we could just duel, could we?"
The sphinx said nothing.
He put his wand against the wood and cast his strongest Blasting Curse. The fiery orange spell smacked against the crystal and…died, a candle without wax.
"Cool runes—" The spell flung back out of the shell and smashed him back five feet. "Ow." He held his head, dizzy. Distantly, he thought he heard the tinkle of the Grey Lady's laughter.
"I guess I'm not getting in the easy way."
He thought hard — he really didn't think he was going to solve a puzzle set by Ravenclaw's daughter by himself. But if he had help?
Slughorn's words resounded in his head. The smartest witch of her generation.
Lily.
He practically ran back to the party. Even in the dark, her red hair was easy to spot.
"Lily," He pulled her arm to get her away from the vampire who was looking at her pale skin eagerly. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I have a logic puzzle that I need your help to solve. It'll strike a blow against You-Know-Who like you won't believe, but you have to come now and you can't tell anyone."
She stared at him for a long moment, flabbergasted. Then her jaw set. "Alright, but if I do this, you need to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Stay away from Alice."
"Huh?"
"I'm not stupid, Harry." Lily said flatly. "That's why you came to me, right? I see what's going on. She's just lonely and struggling with the baby and struggling…with the news that we just got." She hesitated, her eyes not meeting his.
"News?"
"I can't explain it, but we might have to go into lockdown soon. No leaving the house."
Realization hit him in a cold chill. The prophecy had been made. Trelawney's prophecy to Dumbledore, that Snape had overheard. The Longbottoms and the Potters would go under the Fidelius Charm.
The timer was counting down.
"That's…that's why she's being wild." Harry said, a lump in his throat, though he wasn't thinking about Alice at all. Things were in motion. He existed in the past and the present, but time always moved forward.
The clock was ticking on his parents' murder.
"That's one word for it." Lily scoffed. "But please, I know you're a good guy but she's married, Harry. Do we have a deal?"
"I'll stay away." He promised. "I was just…yeah."
"I get it." She glanced down at his groin. "I know what you men are like."
Not going there…Merlin.
"Let's go." Harry said swiftly, taking hold of her arm and leading her through the crowds and out of the party. He led her up to the seventh floor, to the Room of Requirement.
"What is this room?" She said with interest. "I've never seen it before." She looked at him piercingly. "And how do you know about it?" She really did have amazing green eyes — his eyes.
Is that an arrogant thought?
"Lots of questions — let's just say I'm working hard against You-Know-Who and leave it there? I rescued things at the Symposium, didn't I?"
"Amelia trusts you and James thinks you're alright, too." Lily said hesitantly. "And, for whatever reason, I think you have a good heart."
Harry gave her a beaming smile. Dumbledore believed that a mother's love was a force in magic, an ancient magic that had protected him. The idea warmed his heart — of there being a bond between them, that she could feel a connection with him, even if she didn't know he was her son. He could bury himself in adoring women all he liked, but he could never forget the feeling of crying in his little cupboard, wishing that he had a Mum and Dad.
"Hug time?"
Lily snickered. "It's amazing that Alice thinks you're charming."
"Aren't I charming?"
"You're cute, in a sort of 'I need to feed you up' kind of way. Charming, not so much."
"Back home, ladies think I'm very charming." Even if, like Tonks, they may have ulterior motives, Harry amended.
Lily pursed her lips. "You remind me of my husband when he was younger. Girls could tell he was a bad boy, that he would show them a good time, that he knew what he was doing. Girls don't find you charming, Harry, they just know that you're not going to stammer when they kiss you, or faint when they take their bra off."
"I feel faintly wounded."
She shook her head, smiling. "Just like James. It took him a while to mature — then he was certainly charming. He learned to listen, as well as talk. He learned to laugh at himself, instead of just others. He learned to turn it off, not just on."
"Huh." Harry swallowed. He'd always wanted to know more about his Mum and Dad — he'd just never thought he'd learn it straight from the source.
"Anyway," Lily brushed her hair behind her ear. "Is that why we're here?" She nodded at the wooden crystal.
"It was crystal-crystal, then it got all wooden crystal on me. The sphinx that's engraved in it — it said it had five puzzles to solve before it opened. A test of intellect."
Lily rubbed her hands together. "I do love an exam."
"Designed by Helena Ravenclaw, in fact — Lady Ravenclaw's daughter. To protect her mother's diadem that she stole to increase her own wit and intelligence."
The redhead looked at him in bewilderment. "Why didn't you say so? I'd have said yes then." She bounced on her heels. "Logic puzzles by Ravenclaw's daughter? I am so in."
The glee on her face reminded him of Hermione. He felt a pang in his heart — he wished the two could have met. Bringing a girl home to meet the parents — it was a little fantasy he harboured. Bringing Fleur home to meet the Dursleys had fulfilled a very different fantasy.
Lily placed her hand on the wooden crystal. The enchanted wood hissed and one lattice edge pushed out, a tray opening with a cloud of smoke.
It contained a small ancient scroll. She unravelled it and read it aloud. ""I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?"
Harry crossed his arms. "Um, like a ghost or I don't know, maybe—"
"An echo." Lily answered with a sigh. "Come on, is that it? I hope the other ones are better."
The wooden crystal glowed. One mahogany panel fell away, revealing the crystalline form behind, and a glimpse at the diadem inside.
The sphinx hissed at her words. "The scent offers sense to the senses." The next panel of the crystal creaked as another tray opened. This one had a vial, not a scroll.
Lily took the vial cautiously and swirled it around.
"Colourless fluid." Harry observed. "Not many potions without colour."
She uncorked it and took a long sniff. "I think the lack of colour is because it wants us to identify the potion by the smell. What do you get?"
He took a long breath. "Sort of dark, leathery? Sort of like a Quidditch changing room."
Lily raised her eyebrow. "I'm getting a library smell. Books."
Harry shrugged. "Library's are pretty leathery, I guess."
She shook her head and sniffed again. "No, this is a sphinx trick. I smell parchment and books, you're smelling something completely different, because the potion smells different to each person, because it's Amortentia!"
The crystal trembled and another panel fell away. Another test passed. Lily gave him a sly look. "Good thing there are two of us here."
The sphinx hissed again. "Find the exit."
"Huh?" Lily muttered and then squeaked, holding her arms out for balance as the Room of Requirement transformed. The floor under them shook as square tiles emerged from the floor, lit up in varying neon colours like the Slughorn's dance floor. The walls fell away and at the other end of the dance floor, a doorway beckoned.
"Whoa—" Harry pulled Lily back as the tiles flopped down, each individual square revealing a sharp iron spike beneath it, rusty with dried blood. The tiles popped back up again and then lit up with numbers, zeroes and ones, twos and threes, even all the way up to the two hundreds. The tiles weren't sequential — no four or six, seven or nine, nor many more.
He waited with baited breath…and exhaled. "I thought they were going to light up or something." He grumbled. "What is this — hopscotch?"
Lily shook her head, silent.
"All these numbers must mean something." Harry said.
"Ssh." She muttered. "I'm thinking."
Harry examined the tiles more closely. The first row that they could step on were the low numbers, zeroes and ones, but each row after that grew larger and larger quickly, until the sixth row was in the three-digits.
"The zero is the clue." Lily said finally.
"Huh?"
"What sequence starts from zero?" She said slowly. "Very few. It's Fibonnaci." She smiled. "I never expected a mathematics puzzle here, but it does have some uses in Ancient Runes, of course."
"I…what? Like each number is the—"
"Sum of the two preceding ones." Lily nodded and stepped onto a zero tile. To his relief, she didn't fall straight through. She hopped a path from zero to one, from one to one, to two to three. Five, eight, thirteen, until she was at one hundred and forty four. She stepped straight through the doorway on the other side of the tile-floor…and it disappeared.
Harry blinked and they were next to the wooden crystal once again.
"Glad I brought you." He said, resisting the urge to hug her in relief.
"Not a student of Muggle mathematics?" Lily teased.
"I never even managed long division." Harry joked.
"Helena Ravenclaw made this?" She said skeptically.
"The ghost of her did. The Grey Lady."
"The Grey Lady is Helena Ravenclaw?" Lily demanded. "Merlin, I wish I'd known. I've have asked her so many questions at school!" She whistled loudly. "That makes sense — she must have been studying all this time, even in death, if she knows Muggle mathematics sequences. She made this to stop a pureblood from advancing through her puzzle."
Harry thought about it. "That makes sense." Helena would have wanted to stop Tom or his follows from retrieving the diadem, as best she could.
The carved sphinx hissed once more. "The beast that does not belong offers the way forward. Choose incorrectly and defeat the beasts all."
The room darkened to a pitch black. When a torch lit by itself, Lily screamed. Harry drew his wand. They were surrounded by magical creatures, fierce and vast. A nundu, breath fetid with rotting flesh. A Swedish Fireball, snorting flames from its nostrils. A hippogriff, haughty and proud, chin raised. Bowtruckles and Skrewts, Acromantula's and Augurey's. The room had everything. There was even a three-headed monstrous dog, like Fluffy. Only none of the creatures attacked, or made a move. They stood and watched, each wearing a black collar around their necks. The collared beasts looked quite comical, in some cases — Harry was pretty sure even Hagrid hadn't managed to get an Acromantula to wear a pet's collar.
"The collars have keys." Lily observed.
"Look, there's a door." A locked oak door had appeared at the room's end.
"Just gotta choose the right key," she said.
"The one that does not belong — it's gotta be the Nundu, right? Nobody's putting a collar on a fucking Nundu, even in this illusion world." Harry said, edging towards it.
"No, stop." Lily grabbed his elbow. "This isn't based on reality, it's based on logic. I would say the Blast-Ended Skrewt is the odd one. It's got a collar but it doesn't have a head, right, just two tails on either side. Logically, that's the one that doesn't belong — the rest of them have heads." She stepped towards it.
"Wait!" This time, Harry grabbed her elbow.
"What? It makes sense?"
"The three-headed dog." Harry looked at the monstrous dog, thinking. It was a furry brown, like Hagrid's Fluffy. "Each head is wearing a collar."
"So what?"
"I know one of these. Fluffy."
Lily looked at the gigantic beast and back at him. "You made one of these a pet and you called it Fluffy?"
"It's not mine. And—" Harry didn't want to get into Hagrid — Lily knew him. "The point is that Fluffy is a singular. It has three heads but it's one brain, one soul, one creature." He pointed at the dog. "It's the odd one out — wearing three collars but only one being."
Lily bit the inside of her cheek. "Are you sure? I don't fancy fighting one of these things, let alone all of them."
"I'm…ninety percent sure."
"Ninety percent?"
"What, you want a guarantee? If we die, you can tell me I told you so, okay?"
Lily huffed. "So much attitude — I bet your mother found you a pain in the ass growing up."
Harry grinned. "Difficult to say."
She took a deep breath. "Let's do this."
They walked together, staying well away from the fire-breathing dragon. The three-headed dog growled as they approached and Harry felt a flicker of fear run through him. Monstrous dogs were, it turned out, as scary now as they were when he was eleven.
But each head bowed as he reached a hand out, allowing him to take a key off each collar. Two keys disintegrated in his hand but one remained, iron and pure.
Lily let out a heavy breath as he walked to the door and opened it.
"Pretty clever." She bumped his hip.
"Even my mother might be proud of me," he smirked.
They stepped into a cold room, facing a line of seven statues of equal height. A boy in seven forms, a Hogwarts student, a schoolbag on his shoulder and staring straight ahead. Unlit torches sat in a rosette shape before each statue. Seven statues, seven torches.
The Grey Lady's voice spoke from nowhere, eerie and cold. "We cannot bequeath our treasure to one that did not belong. Make a mistake and choose death."
"One that did not belong?" Harry echoed. "To Hogwarts?"
No more clues were proffered.
Lily ran her fingers over each statue. "Seven statues. The most magically powerful number."
"Students do seven years here." Harry said aloud.
"But all the statues look the same age." She griped. "Same height too."
"Unlit torches…so we have to light them in the right order."
"Order of what, though?"
They stepped back so they could look at each statue at the same time.
"What are the differences?" Lily asked.
Harry pointed at the obvious. "Well, that one's holding a broomstick. That one's got a bottle, a Butterbeer or something."
"Oh!" Lily realized. "That one has a really bulky school bag. Like a first year would — they bring all their textbooks to every class because they're terrified they won't have the one they need."
"Right."
Lily gave him a wry look. "You didn't even go to Hogwarts, did you?"
"I can imagine." He defended. "Look, this one has a split in their bag. The second years are always getting their bags split from pranks — people feel too guilty to pick on the firsties. I imagine." He added hastily, catching Lily's look.
"Right." She said dryly. "The broomstick will be third year."
"Why?"
"First years aren't big enough to get on the team. Second years aren't better than the older kids. But third years? They've got enough experience and if they're really promising, their parents will have bought them their own broom. James got on the team in his third year after practicing all summer."
"Alright." Harry shrugged. "This statue's got a lipstick imprint on his cheek — that's gotta be fifth year."
"Fourth." Lily blushed.
"You had your first kiss in your fourth year?" He said with surprise.
"James stole it, more like." Lily giggled. "I cursed him so bad he was in the Hospital Wing for a week. Fourth year is when girls and boys start really…" She trailed off.
"Noticing each other." Harry finished.
"All those hormones. Besides, fifth year is this one — look, he's holding a quill in his hand because he's studying for his OWLs."
"Alright, well," Harry stroked his chin as he evaluated the last two. "The beer bottle holder is the sixth year. And that leaves this guy for seventh."
The last statue held nothing, carried nothing, but he stared straight ahead confidently — ready for the world outside Hogwarts.
Lily shrugged. "It makes sense to me. You do the honours?"
Harry gave her a foul look. "I see how it is — I mess it up and only I die?"
She grinned. "I've got a kid, remember?"
He couldn't forget. He whipped out his wand and lit the torches in order with Incendio charms. When each torch blazed high, the room dissipated around them. They once more stood in front of the wooden crystal, except now it wasn't wooden anymore.
It was crystalline and pure, perfect. Perfect until a single crack appeared. And another, and a dozen more. It splintered open, an orange peeled to the sound of cracking glass. The diadem sat before them, finally freed.
"We did it." Harry said, breathless and giddy. He was ticking off Voldemort's horcruxes. He was making moves, making the monster back into a mortal man.
"Now to collect the prize!" Lily darted forward.
"No, wait, Lily—"
He was too late. She scooped up the diadem and placed it on her head. She turned and grinned at him, posing like a queen.
Harry felt his heart stop as her smile fell away. Her eyes rolled back.
"Oh." She murmured.
"Lily, take it off!" But she backed away from him, holding onto it. Her knees buckled.
"I was blind but now I see." Lily whispered. "It really does make one smarter, more observant. The diadem is composed of mostly goblin-made silver, mixed with a more common silver alloy, explaining its tarnished surface — goblin-made silver does not tarnish."
"Lily, take it off now—"
"I can remember everything." She said in wonder. "Tuney was so jealous — I should have been kinder. I took too much attention." She swallowed. "The floor is made from fieldstone but it contains marble powder, allowing magic to flow through it."
She looked at him suddenly, her eyes glowing. "I can breathe in the air and feel the composition of what makes it. I can feel the ley lines under the castle. I can feel Hogwarts' heartbeat, like my baby when it grew in my womb."
"Lily, please, take it off — it's dangerous!"
She gazed at him and her lips parted. "Harry. I see you now. Harry who pretends he did not attend Hogwarts. Your nose, eyes and hair — they reflected the light of five torches instead of seven, because glamour's cannot reflect that many light sources—"
"Lily!"
"James said that you embraced him eagerly. You trembled when I fixed your hair when we first met. You resemble my husband. Your first name is Edward but you go by Harry. Dumbledore says that he can feel you have tremendous power. Enough power to walk the impossible path, not forward but back?"
"Lily, I don't know—"
She backed away as he advanced. Her eyes glistened with tears. "And I can feel you in my heart. You are my son. Harry."
Her back against the wall. She did not resist when he snatched the diadem from her head.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. "Tell me I am wrong."
The lump in his throat felt like it had been engorged. "I…I don't know what you're talking about." He whispered. He couldn't do this — couldn't have this conversation. He couldn't tell his mother that he'd grown up without her, come back in time, wasn't going to save her. He couldn't find the words — find a word. The walls closed in. His heart constricted. He had to escape.
"I'm—I'm sorry." He turned and ran. Out of the Room of Requirement, diadem in hand.
Straight into Alice, knocking her back.
"Harry, I was looking for you—" Her smile drained as she saw his pale face. "What's wrong?"
"I can't, I gotta go." He covered his face. He pushed past her, feet pounding on the stone. Down the stairs, five at a time, out of the doors, onto the grass, letting the cold night dry his eyes. He held the diadem so tightly that it cut into his fingers. He had it. It was all that mattered.
Destroying the horcruxes, the Dark Lord. It was all that mattered.
It was the only way they'd forgive him.
The only way he could forgive himself.
###
Ginny glanced over her shoulder as she scribbled in her diary page. Susan was fine and worst of all, she was wearing a stupid smile on her stupid face. For one, beautiful night, when the Hufflepuff hadn't returned from her weekly grave visit, she'd thought herself successful, imagined herself comforting Harry.
Tom's words gleamed on the page. "It's okay, Ginny."
"It's not okay," She wrote furiously. "What if it links back to us?"
"It won't. We gave the money anonymously, through middlemen."
"I lost all the money my brothers gave me." Ginny scowled even as she wrote it. It had been a large sum with the promise of more when the job was done. It would have been worth it but somehow it had failed. Susan had returned to Hogwarts with only bruises and cuts and a stupid smile.
"Perhaps we need to change tactics." Tom suggested.
Ginny exhaled deeply. "I'm not doing any more…violent things. If anything links back to me, I'm finished. Harry will never forgive me," she wrote.
Tom's reply took a long time to come. "Instead of removing competition, it may be time to demonstrate your own qualities. You've been training hard. I've taught you a lot, haven't I, Ginny? It's time to show it."
Ginny stared at the page.
The words made sense. Harry had a lot of girls competing for his attention. Beautiful girls, busty girls, smart girls, pureblood girls. But none of them were what she could become, in time, with Tom's tutelage.
An equal.
###
Grindelwald sat patiently on a simple wooden chair as Voldemort stalked back and forth. He did not need creature comforts. He was free. His time imprisoned had given him a perspective that his student did not have.
"He destroyed my locket." The Dark Lord seethed. "He makes us look like fools." He threw the Daily Prophet down on the floor and burnt it to ashes. "And you!"
"Me?"
"You were—"
"Out of practice." Gellert admitted. "My strength will take time, as you know, as I told you. Our victory will come — I grow stronger with every new recruit."
Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "They do not fear us as they should. If they do not fear us, they will not bend, they will not break."
Grindelwald watched the ashes of the paper blow away across the stone. The headlines of the last few days had stunned them both with their bold lies. "The papers of today are not like those in my day. They would never have dared."
The Dark Lord shook his head. "You are wrong. They are just as easily puppeteered." He hissed. "Only it is Potter that pulls their strings." He spat on the ground. "They prefer choose the false idol of celebrity over their own lives."
Gellert hummed at that. He'd dealt with trials in his time — Albus, certainly — but Albus had never chosen the spotlight in the same way Harry Potter did. "Fame is fickle. Perhaps we can plant stories too."
"You don't think I've tried? The spineless witch, Skeeter, she protects her prized cow."
Grindelwald smiled.
"What amuses you so?" Voldemort snapped.
"You remember the lessons I taught you, don't you? If a problem cannot be resolved—"
"It must be removed." He finished.
"Raid the Prophet. Burn it, destroy its printing press." Gellert suggested.
Voldemort hesitated. "The press plays a valuable role in spreading our attacks, our fear."
Gellert nodded at the paper ashes on the floor, with the headline that had so enraged them. 'YOU-KNOW-WHO TAKES IT IN THE YOU-KNOW-WHAT?! HOW BRITAIN REACTED TO THE SHOCKING NEWS'.
"It does not spread fear when our enemy controls it. We have to silence Potter's mouthpiece."
Voldemort paused, thinking it through. Finally, his tongue flickered out. "You know, long before printing presses, how they would communicate across great distances?"
Gellert smiled and said nothing.
His student's eyes glowed red. "Fire."
Skeeter's gone too far while Alice can't stop going further. Next week, next Friday, next chapter - Ginny has a plan to show her power that rocks Hogwarts, while Harry's secrets are spilling even further than Lily.
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